It warmed in response, and for a moment pine and dark earth filled her nostrils. Not here, not really, just the ghost of it. A reminder. A promise.
She wrote until her eyes burned and her hand went numb. Letters for every milestone she'd miss, every moment stolen. By the time she finished, pale pre-dawn light was creeping through her window.
Twenty-four hours left.
One more day of pretending. One more day of memorizing faces.
She hid the letters in her desk drawer, beneath old pay stubs and expired coupons. They'd find them after, when they went through her things, wondering why she'd disappeared. Her mother would know the horrible truth, but would Allegra ever be able to understand? Would she hate her? Would she think that she’d abandoned her? The tears she had been fighting all night finally slipped free and Briar brushed them aside with the back of her hand.
On her wrist, the mark pulsed once more, satisfied.
Day three arrived with ordinary sunshine and the smell of pancakes. Briar carefully made her bed, gathered up the library books in a neat pile, and tried not to think about the fact that this would be the last time she woke up in this room. She then dressed slowly, taking stock of the tasks left unfinished, small things she told herself she’d get to tomorrow, never thinking that tomorrow would be stolen from her.
"Morning, sleepyhead." June stood at the stove, spatula in hand, looking more present than she had in years. "Allegra insisted on chocolate chips."
"I insisted on chocolate chips AND whipped cream," Allegra corrected from the table, where she was building what appeared to be a pancake sculpture. "But Mom's being reasonable. I hate when she's reasonable."
"Terrible parenting, I know." June slid a plate in front of Briar. Three pancakes, no chocolate chips, but a smiley face drawn in syrup. "Coffee's fresh."
Briar stared long and hard at the smiley face. When was the last time her mother had made her pancake art? Ten years? More?
"You okay?" June's hand touched her shoulder, fingers squeezing gently. The question felt both empty and charged in equal measure, They knew the answer, but Briar answered anyway.
"Yeah." Briar cleared her throat. "Just tired."
"She was up late doing her weird iron project," Allegra said through a mouthful of pancake. "I googled it, you know. The iron thing. Apparently it's for protection against fairies."
Briar's blood chilled.
"Is that what the internet said?" June's voice stayed carefully neutral as she returned to the stove.
"Yeah! If you wear iron, fairies can't mess with you. It's in all these old stories." Allegra licked chocolate off her fork. "Maybe Bri's secretly hunting fairies. That would explain why she's being so weird."
"I'm not hunting fairies,” Briar said, hating how defensive it sounded. Allegra didn’t seem to notice.
"Just protecting against them?" Allegra grinned. "With your collection of not-pure-enough iron?"
"Eat your pancakes."
"I'm just saying, if you need fairy protection, you're supposed to turn your clothes inside out. Way cheaper than buying every piece of not-iron in Oregon."
June made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob, covering it by clanging the spatula against the pan.
After breakfast, Allegra dragged them into the living room for what she called "mandatory family bonding." This apparently meant subjecting them to her current favorite show—something with too many characters and dragons that weren't nearly as impressive as advertised.
"Okay, so that's Marcus, he's in love with the dragon queen but she doesn't know he's actually—Mom, you're not watching!"
"I'm watching." June had been staring at Briar for the last ten minutes.
"You're not. This is important!"
Briar tucked herself deeper into the couch corner, memorizing the way Allegra gestured wildly while explaining plot points, how their mother attempted to follow along despite having missed three seasons. All while taking in things she’d always takenfor granted. Like the fact that the couch still had that one spring that poked through if you sat wrong or the way Allegra's feet were tucked under her thigh, stealing warmth.
It was all so normal, precious, fleeting.
They spent the afternoon in the kitchen, June teaching Allegra how to make their grandmother's red sauce. Briar sat at the wobbly table, pretending to read but really watching them work.
"More garlic," June instructed.
